I Love You and That's All I Know
by princessxleah
Summary: How does Owen get Cristina to agree to go to therapy? Missing scene from episode 1 of season 6, "Good Mourning."


Leaning over the counter as she updated her charts at the nurses' station, Cristina could sense him watching her. He had a gift for stealth, and sometimes he could take her by surprise when she was especially preoccupied, but she always knew when he was there.

She silently counted as the seconds elapsed, and wasn't surprised a mere minute later to feel a warm presence sidle up behind her and a familiar hand press gently into her lower back.

"Dr. Hunt." Cristina never looked up from her chart, the picture of professionalism, even as her mouth twitched with the tiniest of smiles at the shiver that went through her at even this small contact between them.

"Do you have a minute, Dr. Yang?" Owen's voice too radiated a detached, polite manner even as she could feel him press his body just a bit more closely to hers.

"Mmhmm." Seeing as her mouth had suddenly filled up with saliva she didn't exactly trust herself to speak at the moment. She'd never let him know that, though.

So she finished writing the last note before closing up the chart, and proceeded to allow Owen to lead her to what she had silently declared "their" on-call room, and raised an eyebrow curiously as he stood facing the door for longer than necessary after he had closed and locked it.

"So now that you have me in here, what do you plan on doing to me?" teased Cristina, attempting to break the silence that had suddenly filled the room and the awkwardness that had settled there. "Because I was hoping the purple satin bra and panty set wouldn't go to waste today."

His deep chuckle and the fact that he turned around to face her lightened the atmosphere considerably, and she allowed her tone to become more playful as she relaxed, sauntering toward him.

"I lied. The bra's gray. And it's cotton. And it has a hole in the back. And the underwear doesn't match. But once you take it all off, you won't notice, right?" She smiled up at him as he shook his head and laughed.

"Tempting." He brushed her lips with a brief kiss. "How can I resist?"

"You can't," Cristina murmured, all playfulness quickly evaporating as she tugged on his lower lip with her teeth. Her hands slid greedily down his sides as she nibbled, silently urging him to return the favor.

He complied with a deeper kiss, slowly sweeping her tongue with his and wrapping his arms around her waist, guiding her hips closer to his. His hand slid further down, cupping her buttock and squeezing gently.

Just as Cristina was thinking that it was a good thing she had lied and she was, in fact, wearing her guaranteed-to-get-laid purple satin lingerie, and that she had shaved the night before, Owen broke away. He looked guilty as he spoke.

"Uh...I actually needed to talk to you about something."

Cristina wrinkled her nose as she flung herself onto the bed, lying down on her back. He had gotten her all hot, bothered and wet and now he wanted to _talk_?

"You get me all hot, bothered and wet and now you want to talk?"

She couldn't help herself. She was dying here. And here he was twisting the knife even further.

Owen grinned, sitting on the bed next to where her head lay. "I'll make it up to you." He played with the loose curls cascading around her face. "I promise." He paused for a minute, seemingly searching carefully for words to continue. "That's...actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

Her ears perked up. Sex? Were they actually going to talk about having sex? Obviously, performing the action of sex was preferable, but still. Up until this point he had simply resisted her advances and had asked her to wait. Now it seemed that they were getting somewhere.

"My shrink said..."

Cristina rolled her eyes. She caught the slight grimace on Owen's face in response, but though she knew going to therapy was what he needed, and despite the fact that she was grateful for how far Owen had progressed with the help of the shrink, she just couldn't understand what was in that woman's mind to keep them from having sex. Cristina, more than anyone else, understood the rationale of her and Owen not sleeping in the same bed together for awhile. If she was to be honest with herself, she wasn't ready for it either. But she was more than ready to once again consummate their relationship. She didn't understand the issue.

Obviously, the woman was just a terrible shrink.

"...My shrink said," Owen's voice was a bit firmer this time, "that it may help for..." He paused once again, seemingly gathering his thoughts. "...for you to...come with me."

Cristina blinked.

"To therapy," he clarified.

Cristina blinked again.

"For us to go together to therapy," he finished lamely, his expression wary as he watched her.

She didn't even need to think about it.

"No."

He sighed. "Cristina..."

"No." She sat up, twisting around to face him. "I don't do therapy. I'm sorry." Her voice was clear and inflexible. "I know why you go, I get it. I just..." She shook her head. "It's not for me."

She looked up at him, and tried to read the expression on his face. "I want you to get help. I want to help you. But...just not by me going to a shrink."

He surprised her by smiling gently, and shaking his own head. "That's what I told her you'd say."

"You think you know me, huh?" Cristina responded with a cynical smile. She loved Owen, and he did have an understanding of her that had manifested itself the first day they had met, but he didn't know her as well as he thought he did if he thought her going to a shrink was an option.

"Not as much as I'd like to." Owen rested his hand on the outside of her thigh. "But I know enough to know that you don't 'do' therapy." A smile played once again at the corners of his mouth. "I know that you don't think much of my shrink."

Cristina tilted her head and shrugged unapologetically in agreement.

"Look, I promise this isn't about her psychoanalyzing you. She just wants to talk to us. Just for a few sessions."

"Owen-"

"I know this is asking a lot. I know that. I wouldn't ask..." He sighed. "I shouldn't ask. I shouldn't ask you to do this after everything...after you've been there for me more than you should have." He gripped her thigh tightly.

Cristina shook her head slowly. Every fiber in her being just curdled at the thought of therapy, even if she wasn't going to be shrunk by the shrink. She didn't want to hinder Owen's progress, but she just couldn't do it.

Even for him.

"She just wants to know that we're talking, that we're getting to know each other." Owen pressed on, his voice neutral, neither pressuring nor wavering. "Once she gets a sense of that, then she'll see I'm improving, and we'll be able to..." He squeezed her thigh once again.

Oh. She finally got it. Once the shrink saw actual evidence that they were all coupley and asking questions about each other, she would give the okay for Cristina's sex drought to finally end.

In exchange for finally getting to have sex with her boyfriend, she would have to go see the shrink.

Crap.

Owen was watching her, looking into her eyes as if he was trying to read her mind. Cristina stared right back at him, still unsure. If it would only be talking, and only for a few times, and if only to get Owen in her bed...

"I'm not saying yes." Cristina finally spoke up.

Owen nodded, still watching her unwaveringly.

"If I were-and I'm not saying I will..." She paused. "How many times? Would I have to..." She gestured. Owen, his eyes lighting up but his voice still even, understood instantly.

"Five sessions?"

Cristina blanched. "Two."

Owen winced. "Three?"

Her lips pressed together tightly. With an incline of her head, she said tersely, "Three."

Owen nodded. "Okay."

"If I decide to go."

"Right."

"If. If I go."

"Got it."

"Good."

They sat quietly for a minute, Owen stroking her leg gently and Cristina staring off in space, thinking about the horrible prospect of going to therapy and absently threading her fingers with Owen's free hand, attempting to remind herself why she was even contemplating the thought in the first place.

"Where did you go to med school?"

Owen looked taken aback for only a millisecond before comprehension caused his blue eyes to light up.

"Harvard."

Cristina nodded. "Okay." She looked at him, and considered for a moment before speaking up again. "I went to Stanford."

Owen nodded, and she knew he understood.

The silence was broken with the beeping of Cristina's pager, and she made to get up, but before she could rise up off of the bed, Owen swiftly grabbed her arm and pulled her close for a searing kiss she could feel in her toes, running his fingers through her wild curls before releasing her, and pressed his forehead to hers.

"Thank you. Even if you don't go..." He met her lips for a last kiss. "Thank you."

Cristina gripped his hand tightly before standing up. She was almost out the door when she heard Owen's voice once again.

"By the way, I know you're wearing the purple satin."

She couldn't help the silly grin that spread across her face as she left their on-call room. Of course he would know _that_.


End file.
